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Birds align with grain, but not with the stick.

Omani proverbs
Added by Lucian Velea
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Head For The Barricade

FIGHT, FIGHT
FIGHT, FIGHT
FIGHT, FIGHT
FIGHT, FIGHT
Sometimes you gotta fight for your right
When your not sure you're in a fight for your life right?
If you ain't packin any tactics
You might get ass kicked
Even if you are you little knucklehead
I'm kinda sick of being aggravated
I'm glad I'm hated
I guess I'm doing something right
But that's what happened back in Columbine
You gotta know when to stop
And not go over the top
Cause there's a chamber deep inside the brain
It's covered with chains
So don't be shaking them loose
And if you do I'll be running for the hills
Cause I'm ready to rock and now we're playing for real
I gotta
FIGHT FIGHT
You better watch out when my adrenaline kicks I gotta
FIGHT FIGHT
IT'S TOO LATE, YOU ALREADY BEEN HIT, DAMN!
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM HA HAHA STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
YEAH! (Head for the barricades)
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM HA HAHA STICK 'EM
STICK 'EM STICK 'EM
YEAH! (Head for the barricades)
This world can make you stick to your stomach so I
Put on my headphones, listen to the Deftones
It's getting crowded in my spaceship
Living in a dream
Running from the hate machine
You know it's,
Such a drag when there's people talking down to ya
Such a drag when everything sucks do ya,
Walk away with spit on your face or do ya,
Draw lines and give them a taste cause I,
Know it's never gonna end
If it happens again I'm going straight for the throat
Another note
Don't forget you had a chance
Now I'm over the sidelines and ready to dance
I gotta
FIGHT FIGHT

[...] Read more

song performed by Limp Bizkit
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Held Up With Just A Stick

Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.
Held up with just a stick.

Held up with just a stick,
It seems...
Held up with just a stick,
One's head...
Held up with just a stick,
Their arms and their legs...
Needing to be fed.

And...
Held up with just a stick,
One's pride...
Held up with just a stick,
Two eyes and two ears...
Living poverty so near,
To...
Famish it is clear.

And...
Held up with just a stick,
Hunger.
Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And those who fight death in their sight.

Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Pride!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And those who fight death in their sight.

Held up with just a stick,
And...
There's no benefit to it.

Held up with just a stick,
Life!
Held up with just a stick,
Pride!
Held up with just a stick,
Blight!
And living this is NOT a gift.

[...] Read more

poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Stick By Me

Stick by me and I'll stick by you
Stick by me and I'll stick by you

My life here on earth would be useless can't you see
If I didn't have you to stick by me
I love you darling and that's no lie
Stick by me and I'll stick by you
When you cry I cry too
Stick by me and I'll stick by you

Friends may try to hurt us
Scandalise our name
But no one (no-one) can tear us apart
You have a place in my heart

I love you darling and that's no lie
Stick by me and I'll stick by you
Remember my heart and love belongs to you
Stick by me and I'll stick by you
When you cry I'll cry too
Stick by me and I'll stick by you

Repeat from "Friends may try to hurt us ..."

song performed by UB40 from Labour Of Love 2
Added by Lucian Velea
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The Hind And The Panther, A Poem In Three Parts : Part III.

Much malice, mingled with a little wit,
Perhaps may censure this mysterious writ;
Because the muse has peopled Caledon
With panthers, bears, and wolves, and beasts unknown,
As if we were not stocked with monsters of our own.
Let Æsop answer, who has set to view
Such kinds as Greece and Phrygia never knew;
And Mother Hubbard, in her homely dress,
Has sharply blamed a British lioness;
That queen, whose feast the factious rabble keep,
Exposed obscenely naked, and asleep.
Led by those great examples, may not I
The wonted organs of their words supply?
If men transact like brutes, 'tis equal then
For brutes to claim the privilege of men.
Others our Hind of folly will indite,
To entertain a dangerous guest by night.
Let those remember, that she cannot die,
Till rolling time is lost in round eternity;
Nor need she fear the Panther, though untamed,
Because the Lion's peace was now proclaimed;
The wary savage would not give offence,
To forfeit the protection of her prince;
But watched the time her vengeance to complete,
When all her furry sons in frequent senate met;
Meanwhile she quenched her fury at the flood,
And with a lenten salad cooled her blood.
Their commons, though but coarse, were nothing scant,
Nor did their minds an equal banquet want.
For now the Hind, whose noble nature strove
To express her plain simplicity of love,
Did all the honours of her house so well,
No sharp debates disturbed the friendly meal.
She turned the talk, avoiding that extreme,
To common dangers past, a sadly-pleasing theme;
Remembering every storm which tossed the state,
When both were objects of the public hate,
And dropt a tear betwixt for her own children's fate.
Nor failed she then a full review to make
Of what the Panther suffered for her sake;
Her lost esteem, her truth, her loyal care,
Her faith unshaken to an exiled heir,
Her strength to endure, her courage to defy,
Her choice of honourable infamy.
On these, prolixly thankful, she enlarged;
Then with acknowledgments herself she charged;
For friendship, of itself an holy tie,
Is made more sacred by adversity.
Now should they part, malicious tongues would say,
They met like chance companions on the way,

[...] Read more

poem by John Dryden
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Stick Around

Youve been smiling lately baby
Youve been singing in the bath
Youve been acting like a lady
Not a dirty photograph
Then tonight you came home early
Packed a bag or two
Its been worrying me honey
Just what youre gonna do
Stick around, yeah, stick around
Stick around, babe, stick around
Well you came on like a hurricane
About a month ago
Blowing like a stiff breeze
Always on the go
All the good times that we had
All stayed in the past
All the good lays that I get
Never seem to last
Stick around, yeah, stick around
Stick around, babe, stick around
(come on baby, sit on this)
What have I been doing lately
To make you wanna go
I take you out dancing
Honey we can go out to a show
Spend a night romancing
Nights out on the town
Listen to me baby
Youll be glad you stopped around
Stick around, yeah, stick around
Stick around, babe, stick around

song performed by AC-DC
Added by Lucian Velea
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Sweet Summer Day

(4.04)
I'm gonna stick by you, everyday
Iwon't let you down now
No matter what they say
I won't let them get to you, no way
I'll stick by you
I'm going to stick by you
Now I know
No matter what tomorrow brings
I won't let you go
I won't let them get to you, Oh no
I'll stick by you
And when the laughter seems to fade away
And Mr Sun becomes a rainy day
Oh it don't matter cause you'll know anyway
I won't let you down
I'm gonna stick by you
I'll stick by you
Going to stick by you, now I know
No matter what tomorrow brings
I won't let you go
I won't let them get to you, no
I'll stick by you, I'll stick by you
I'll stick by you, I'll stick by you
Written and performed by Chris Rea (vocals, guitars)
Bass by Silvan Marc
Keyboards by Max Middleton
Drums and percussion by Martin Ditcham
Transcribed by IITI

song performed by Chris Rea
Added by Lucian Velea
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Tales Of A Wayside Inn : Part 1. The Poet's Tale; The Birds of Killingworth

It was the season, when through all the land
The merle and mavis build, and building sing
Those lovely lyrics, written by His hand,
Whom Saxon Caedmon calls the Blitheheart King;
When on the boughs the purple buds expand,
The banners of the vanguard of the Spring,
And rivulets, rejoicing, rush and leap,
And wave their fluttering signals from the steep.

The robin and the bluebird, piping loud,
Filled all the blossoming orchards with their glee;
The sparrows chirped as if they still were proud
Their race in Holy Writ should mentioned be;
And hungry crows assembled in a crowd,
Clamored their piteous prayer incessantly,
Knowing who hears the ravens cry, and said:
'Give us, O Lord, this day our daily bread!'

Across the Sound the birds of passage sailed,
Speaking some unknown language strange and sweet
Of tropic isle remote, and passing hailed
The village with the cheers of all their fleet;
Or quarrelling together, laughed and railed
Like foreign sailors, landed in the street
Of seaport town, and with outlandish noise
Of oaths and gibberish frightening girls and boys.

Thus came the jocund Spring in Killingworth,
In fabulous days; some hundred years ago;
And thrifty farmers, as they tilled the earth,
Heard with alarm the cawing of the crow,
That mingled with the universal mirth,
Cassandra-like, prognosticating woe;
They shook their heads, and doomed with dreadful words
To swift destruction the whole race of birds.

And a town-meeting was convened straightway
To set a price upon the guilty heads
Of these marauders, who, in lieu of pay,
Levied black-mail upon the garden beds
And cornfields, and beheld without dismay
The awful scarecrow, with his fluttering shreds;
The skeleton that waited at their feast,
Whereby their sinful pleasure was increased.

Then from his house, a temple painted white,
With fluted columns, and a roof of red,
The Squire came forth, august and splendid sight!
Slowly descending, with majestic tread,
Three flights of steps, nor looking left nor right,

[...] Read more

poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
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A Seduction: Stick-People Kissing

It was working late,
hours in that office together
the comfortableness;
the small talk
and the shared work.

You held my arm
to trace along the blackboard
the picture of the stick-people
we drew in the crowd.

So close.

You began to trace
two stick people
one kneeling
and the bubble over his head
said
'I love you.'
I said:
'What are you doing? '
You said: 'Don't talk to me
say it with the stick people.'

I drew my stick lady with a bubble
saying
'Are you talking to me? '
You drew and bubbled
'Must be, you the only
beautiful stick lady in this drawing.'

'Humm, ' I said,
need a little more than that.
Who's talking stick-man or you? '

'Of if you must know
stick-man is my wing-man
It is you
I love.'

I bubbled back
my stick-lady saying
'xxxx
hearts and kisses'

The next day in the conference room
on that blackboard
were two stick-people
arms wrapped around each other
kissing.

poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Grain In Open

Millions may bless you for gesture
I am confident and very sure
Their bellies are hungry and starve
We can see it on stomach with deep inside curve

It may look illogical
Yet it is question for survival
Absolutely in our own hand
With little change in approach and trend

How much food grain is allowed to rot?
Why not preventive measures be taken on the spot?
I hear reports that grain stock is dumped in the sea
Only to maintain artificial price but thrown away free

Thousands perish for the want of food
For humanity sake this is shameful and not good
Let hungry get some grain even if at some cost!
Save hungry people before they are dead and lost

Grain is stored in open and laid to waste
Insects make it unhygienic and lead to bad taste
Not fit for anything but offered for human consumption
Everything is lost only because of faulty assumption

If little care is taken for preservation
Will power not show but for demonstration
This of those poor countries diverting funds
Not able to cope yet take care of people on the ground

Can any one say this is impossible?
Our current trend is illogical and reversible?
I suggest for building public opinion
Force the governments to help with total disregard to religion

Let some price for grain be quoted
But grain should not be off load in sea and floated
Let people consume and survive on this earth
Why do we want to push them to meet the avoidable death?

If one man can be convinced then it can turn lot many
There may be involvement or consideration for money
But let us rise above pretty consideration and not allow grain to rot
I am sure of the view that hunger can be tackled successfully and fought

poem by Hasmukh Amathalal
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Cycles in Season

CYCLES IN SEASON

The grain, who'd reap life's golden grain
knows dust to dust's returned again,
though mortal flesh rots none impound
pure spirit risen, strength fresh found.

New found, to greet soul's season new,
scope springs again, hopes shall renew,
conceit that speeds humanity
grounds down needs through greed, vanity.

Profanity will seek full pound
of flesh before the clock’s unwound,
while wounded pride, vile greed for gain,
turns self-destructive 'gainst the grain.

Yet grain finds fertile soil. Long lain
awaiting stained-glass window pane
which cycle starts charts rich rebound
from dark profound to light recrowned.

18 June 1991 revised 14 December 2008
robi03_0390_robi03_0000 XXX_EJZ

previous title Circles in Season for previous version see below

Circles in Season

The grain, who reaps the golden grain
knows dust to dust’s returned again, -
though flesh may rot, one can’t impound
the spirit risen, strength new-found.

New found, to greet a season new,
strength springs again, hopes can renew,
but hopes that speed humanity
are ground down by its vanity.

Its vanity will seek full pound
of flesh before the clock’s unwound,
and wounded pride with greed for gain
agrees to go against the grain...

18 June 1991

© Jonathan Robin

poem by Jonathan Robin
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Set them free..They will multiply..

Watching the birds is real fun,
no need dime, only the time,
colorful birds to colored birds,
chirping birds to singing birds,
flying birds to walking birds,
cunning birds to love birds,
Watching birds is just a lesson,
making mind to have a vision.

collect the twigs to make the nest,
one by one, they think the best,
choose the right tree,
just high and free,
Making the nest perfect,
without any single defect,
The birds toil together or alone,
all day long until it is done.

I bought two love birds,
that were kept in a cage.
Hung the cage under the balcony,
above the reach of dogs not felony.
chirping disturbed their sleep,
Nikko, the dog set them free.
Only two flew away,
but I have a few dozens now,
making their nests,
right in front of me, on the trees.

Watching the birds is real fun,
no need dime, only the time.

poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Give It Up

(young - young)
Oh yeah
Well there be no words of fighting around here
cause nothin dont matter cause it aint clear
Well it could be on a monday
Or it could be even sunday
So if you cant stand the distance
You better disappear
Do I make myself clear
Im ready to rock Im gonna rip it
Ready to rock yeah Im gonna stick it
Give it up give it out
Whip it up all about
Stick it up shout it loud
Come on, give it up, give it up
Give it up, give it up, yeah
Well theres a big storm a howlin around here
And there be no wine no sinnin and no beer
Im gonna aim to fire a rocket
There aint no damn way to stop it
I got a sure fire bullet
To get you outta here
I said do I make myself clear
Im ready to rock yeah Im gonna rip it
Ready to rock yeah Im gonna stick it
Give it up give it out
I said whip it up all about
You gotta stick it up shout it loud
Come on, give it up, give it up
Give it up, give it up
Im going crazy on a wild mans night
Take your pick of anything you like
Give it up
Give it up
Im sitting pretty on the ready to bite
She givin up a bit of cream delight
Give it up
Give it up
Give it up
Give it up
Give it up give it out
Whip it up all about
You gotta stick it up shout it loud
Give it up all around (givin it up)
Give it up, give it up, give it up (givin it up)
Whippin it in, whippin it out (givin it up)
Stick it up, stick it up, stick em down (givin it up)
Give it up all around
Give it up, give it up
Give it up, give it up

[...] Read more

song performed by AC-DC
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Gun Control

(ian hunter)
All right
Gun control, we dont want no
Gun control, we dont want no
Gun control, we dont want no
Gun control.
Stick to your guns, boys, stick to your guns.
Well make a lot of money if we stick to the guns.
The presidents with us boys, so join in the fun.
We can make a lot of money if we stick to our guns.
Yeah
Gun control, we dont want no
Gun control, we dont want no
Gun control, we dont want no
Gun control.
Let the bullets go!
Step up the lobby, boys, down in washington.
We can make a lot of money if you stick to your guns.
Tradition is with us boys, its the constitution,
So stick to your guns, boys, the final solution.
Hey
Gun control, we dont want no
Gun control, we dont want no
Gun control, we dont want no
Gun control.
Hey, and aint it a shame we aint got a war,
Well just have to practice on the sick and the poor.
Assassinate presidents, and they aint the only ones,
We can get them all, young and old, if we stick to our guns.
So stick to your guns, boys, fight for your life.
Well all feel special on a saturday night.
Yeah!
Gun control, we dont want no
Gun control, we dont want no
Gun control, we dont want no
Gun control.
Let the bullets go.
Viva macho
Viva macho
Viva macho
Viva macho
Gun control, no, we dont want no
Gun control, no, we dont want no
Gun control, hey, I dont want no
Gun control, (Im much too busy making...)
Gun control,
Gun control, (...saturday night specials)
Gun control,

song performed by Ian Hunter
Added by Lucian Velea
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Kitsch Object

Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
If your luck is dying, go and plant a tree
With artistic license, always comes for free
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
Snook your way backstage
Paris sets the rage
Coursing on your brain
So now I slip away
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
If your luck is dying, go and plant a tree
With artistic license, always comes for free
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
Weightless.. bare.. faithless... scared
Know that bitches face? ?
All seen better days
So quick to blow your fuse
But thats the life you choose
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
If your luck is dying, go and plant a tree
With artistic license, always comes for free
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
Weightless.. bare.. faithless... scared
Snook yourself backstage
Paris sets the rage
Coursing on your brain
So now I slip away
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
If your luck is dying now, go and plant a tree
With poetic license, always comes for free
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
Weightless.. bare.. faithless... scared

song performed by Placebo
Added by Lucian Velea
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Kitsch Object (live)

Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
If your luck is dying, go and plant a tree
With artistic license, always comes for free
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
Snook your way backstage
Paris sets the rage
coursing on your brain
so now I slip away
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
If your luck is dying, go and plant a tree
With artistic license, always comes for free
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
Weightless.. Bare.. Faithless... Scared
Know that bitches face??
All seen better days
So quick to blow your fuse
But that's the life you choose
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
If your luck is dying, go and plant a tree
With artistic license, always comes for free
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
Weightless.. Bare.. Faithless... Scared
Snook yourself backstage
Paris sets the rage
coursing on your brain
so now I slip away
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
If your luck is dying now, go and plant a tree
With poetic license, always comes for free
Just like every lichen, how you stick to me
Weightless.. Bare.. Faithless... Scared
[Posted by Erez

song performed by Placebo
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The Georgics

GEORGIC I

What makes the cornfield smile; beneath what star
Maecenas, it is meet to turn the sod
Or marry elm with vine; how tend the steer;
What pains for cattle-keeping, or what proof
Of patient trial serves for thrifty bees;-
Such are my themes.
O universal lights
Most glorious! ye that lead the gliding year
Along the sky, Liber and Ceres mild,
If by your bounty holpen earth once changed
Chaonian acorn for the plump wheat-ear,
And mingled with the grape, your new-found gift,
The draughts of Achelous; and ye Fauns
To rustics ever kind, come foot it, Fauns
And Dryad-maids together; your gifts I sing.
And thou, for whose delight the war-horse first
Sprang from earth's womb at thy great trident's stroke,
Neptune; and haunter of the groves, for whom
Three hundred snow-white heifers browse the brakes,
The fertile brakes of Ceos; and clothed in power,
Thy native forest and Lycean lawns,
Pan, shepherd-god, forsaking, as the love
Of thine own Maenalus constrains thee, hear
And help, O lord of Tegea! And thou, too,
Minerva, from whose hand the olive sprung;
And boy-discoverer of the curved plough;
And, bearing a young cypress root-uptorn,
Silvanus, and Gods all and Goddesses,
Who make the fields your care, both ye who nurse
The tender unsown increase, and from heaven
Shed on man's sowing the riches of your rain:
And thou, even thou, of whom we know not yet
What mansion of the skies shall hold thee soon,
Whether to watch o'er cities be thy will,
Great Caesar, and to take the earth in charge,
That so the mighty world may welcome thee
Lord of her increase, master of her times,
Binding thy mother's myrtle round thy brow,
Or as the boundless ocean's God thou come,
Sole dread of seamen, till far Thule bow
Before thee, and Tethys win thee to her son
With all her waves for dower; or as a star
Lend thy fresh beams our lagging months to cheer,
Where 'twixt the Maid and those pursuing Claws
A space is opening; see! red Scorpio's self
His arms draws in, yea, and hath left thee more
Than thy full meed of heaven: be what thou wilt-
For neither Tartarus hopes to call thee king,

[...] Read more

poem by Virgil
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Hymne Des Transportés (Hymn Of The Transported)

Prions ! voici l'ombre sereine.
Vers toi, grand Dieu, nos yeux et nos bras sont levés.
Ceux qui t'offrent ici leurs larmes et leur chaîne
Sont les plus douloureux parmi les éprouvés.
Ils ont le plus d'honneur ayant le plus de peine.

Souffrons ! le crime aura son tour.
Oiseaux qui passez, nos chaumières,
Vents qui passez, nos soeurs, nos mères
Sont là-bas, pleurant nuit et jour. !
Oiseaux, dites-leur nos misères !
Ô vents, portez-leur notre amour !

Nous t'envoyons notre pensée,
Dieu ! nous te demandons d'oublier les proscrits,
Mais de rendre sa gloire à la France abaissée ;
Et laisse-nous mourir, nous brisés et meurtris,
Nous que le jour brûlant livre à la nuit glacée !

Souffrons ! le crime -

Comme un archer frappe une cible,
L'implacable soleil nous perce de ses traits
Après le dur labeur, le sommeil impossible ;
Cette chauve-souris qui sort des noirs marais,
La fièvre, bat nos fronts de son aile invisible.

Souffrons ! le crime -

On a soif, l'eau brûle la bouche
On a faim, du pain noir ; travaillez, malheureux !
A chaque coup de pioche en ce désert farouche
La mort sort de la terre avec son rire affreux,
Prend l'homme dans ses bras, l'étreint et se recouche.

Souffrons ! le crime -

Mais qu'importe ! rien ne nous dompte ;
Nous sommes torturés et nous sommes contents.
Nous remercions Dieu vers qui notre hymne monte
De nous avoir choisis pour souffrir dans ce temps
Où tous ceux qui n'ont pas la souffrance ont la honte.

Souffrons ! le crime -

Vive la grande République !
Paix à l'immensité du soir mystérieux !
Paix aux morts endormis dans la tombe stoïque !
Paix au sombre océan qui mêle sous les cieux
La plainte de Cayenne au sanglot de l'Afrique !

[...] Read more

poem by Victor Hugo
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VIII. Dominus Hyacinthus de Archangelis, Pauperum Procurator

Ah, my Giacinto, he's no ruddy rogue,
Is not Cinone? What, to-day we're eight?
Seven and one's eight, I hope, old curly-pate!
—Branches me out his verb-tree on the slate,
Amo-as-avi-atum-are-ans,
Up to -aturus, person, tense, and mood,
Quies me cum subjunctivo (I could cry)
And chews Corderius with his morning crust!
Look eight years onward, and he's perched, he's perched
Dapper and deft on stool beside this chair,
Cinozzo, Cinoncello, who but he?
—Trying his milk-teeth on some crusty case
Like this, papa shall triturate full soon
To smooth Papinianian pulp!

It trots
Already through my head, though noon be now,
Does supper-time and what belongs to eve.
Dispose, O Don, o' the day, first work then play!
—The proverb bids. And "then" means, won't we hold
Our little yearly lovesome frolic feast,
Cinuolo's birth-night, Cinicello's own,
That makes gruff January grin perforce!
For too contagious grows the mirth, the warmth
Escaping from so many hearts at once—
When the good wife, buxom and bonny yet,
Jokes the hale grandsire,—such are just the sort
To go off suddenly,—he who hides the key
O' the box beneath his pillow every night,—
Which box may hold a parchment (someone thinks)
Will show a scribbled something like a name
"Cinino, Ciniccino," near the end,
"To whom I give and I bequeath my lands,
"Estates, tenements, hereditaments,
"When I decease as honest grandsire ought."
Wherefore—yet this one time again perhaps—
Shan't my Orvieto fuddle his old nose!
Then, uncles, one or the other, well i' the world,
May—drop in, merely?—trudge through rain and wind,
Rather! The smell-feasts rouse them at the hint
There's cookery in a certain dwelling-place!
Gossips, too, each with keepsake in his poke,
Will pick the way, thrid lane by lantern-light,
And so find door, put galligaskin off
At entry of a decent domicile
Cornered in snug Condotti,—all for love,
All to crush cup with Cinucciatolo!

Well,
Let others climb the heights o' the court, the camp!

[...] Read more

poem by Robert Browning from The Ring and the Book
Added by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Dawn Of A New Day

The thoughts from yesterday - forgotten
I like the way this new skin feels
Bring me splinters of tomorrow
Collect the parts where I win
Against the grain, against the odds
I'll rise and I won't trip again
The dawn of a new day never looked
As good as this
Concrete breath and dust filled tears
A one-way ride to inner peace
I never thought, I'd join the others
Those who use the dice to solve
Against the grain, against the odds
I'll rise and I won't trip again (x2)
The dawn of a new day never looked
As good as this
Against the grain, against the odds
I'll rise and I won't trip again
Against the grain, against the odds
Against the grain, against the odds(x2)
I'll rise and I won't trip again
Against the grain, against the odds(x3)

song performed by In Flames
Added by Lucian Velea
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Earth And The Wedded Woman

I

The shepherd, with his eye on hazy South,
Has told of rain upon the fall of day.
But promise is there none for Susan's drouth,
That he will come, who keeps in dry delay.
The freshest of the village three years gone,
She hangs as the white field-rose hangs short-lived;
And she and Earth are one
In withering unrevived.
Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain!
And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain!

II

Ah, what is Marriage, says each pouting maid,
When she who wedded with the soldier hides
At home as good as widowed in the shade,
A lighthouse to the girls that would be brides:
Nor dares to give a lad an ogle, nor
To dream of dancing, but must hang and moan,
Her husband in the war,
And she to lie alone.
Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain!
And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain!

III

They have not known; they are not in the stream;
Light as the flying seed-ball is their play,
The silly maids! and happy souls they seem;
Yet Grief would not change fates with such as they.
They have not struck the roots which meet the fires
Beneath, and bind us fast with Earth, to know
The strength of her desires,
The sternness of her woe.
Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain!
And welcome waterspouts, had we sweet rain!

IV

Now, shepherd, see thy word, where without shower
A borderless low blotting Westward spreads.
The hall-clock holds the valley on the hour;
Across an inner chamber thunder treads:
The dead leaf trips, the tree-top swings, the floor
Of dust whirls, dropping lumped: near thunder speaks,
And drives the dames to door,
Their kerchiefs flapped at cheeks.
Rain! O the glad refresher of the grain!

[...] Read more

poem by George Meredith
Added by Poetry Lover
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